


Sweat it all out

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Incest, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8882449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: The Fëanorians miss their flight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Somebody wanted to read more Fëanorians in modern times, this is what my inspiration provided. 
> 
> Fills the Heatwave square in my Genprompt Bingo card, too.

“Damn humans and their damned airports!”

Caranthir kicked his shoes off, flinging them towards the wall, and let himself drop on the bed with a grunt. He gathered his messy hair in a tighter ponytail, although the back of his head was already sweat-drenched, then bent to retrieve a pack of cigarettes from his small bag. It took him a while to dig it out from between a false identity card and his boarding pass, which ended up half-crumpled on the floor, which only added to his irritation. 

Curufin, who sat on the bed next to his, paused in the act of fanning himself with a folded newspaper to give him a sympathetic look. Caranthir offered him a cigarette after sticking one into his mouth, but Curufin declined. He didn't like the taste, and had no use for the things – a distraction for whenever the hubbub of the mortal world put Caranthir in one of his contrary moods.

This time Caranthir's crankiness was quite justified. They had missed their connection by less than ten minutes thanks to a long queue at the security line and the fact that the staff there had not thought it necessary to let them jump said queue and thus avoid the crowd of passengers whose flights only took off in the afternoon. To make matters worse, there were no other flights to their destination until the next day, so they had ended up with two rooms in a hotel near the airport while their baggage flew on ahead of them.

Caranthir sucked forcefully on his cigarette. “How did we even think that flying was a good idea!”

He spun around, looking for the ashtray, and after he had jammed the half-finished cigarette into it turned towards Maedhros, who was looking out of the window at the other end of the room. Except that his head reached past the top of the window, and he had to bend if he wanted to see anything apart from the garbage-littered dingy courtyard. 

Feeling Caranthir's eyes on him, Maedhros finally faced his disgruntled brother.

“Well, nothing went wrong the few times we travelled by plane in the past.”

“Using our own means of transportation is always better. And much safer,” Curufin said.

“But slower. We couldn't have tarried on those pristine beaches if we had chosen to travel by land and sea.”

“Yeah, but by now Pityo Telvo and Turco are waiting for us where we were supposed to be, whereas we're stuck in this poor excuse for a room in this shitty two-star hotel next to the cursed airport,” Caranthir droned, “with nothing for us to fucking do!”

“You know Moryo, perhaps if you hadn't started swearing at the woman at the security line we wouldn't have had to wait while she searched _all_ our bags.”

“She did it _only_ to piss me off, and we had already missed our flight anyway.”

Curufin nodded. Their father had gotten so angry that they had had to physically pry him away from a counter where he was deluging a terrified clerk in a machinegun-fast version of the local language before he could make a full-fledged scene, and thereby attract the attention of those among the passengers milling about the terminal who weren't looking at them already.

“Disgraceful,” Curufin huffed. He gave up trying to fan himself, his lips twisting in a disgusted grimace as he realised his clammy hand was painted grey with tar. He tossed the newspaper into the dustbin and hurried into the tiny bathroom.

The sound of running water along with the sound of Caranthir's lighter as he lit his third cigarette filled the narrow room for a few moments.

“We could go into town to –” Maedhros ventured when Curufin re-emerged after washing his hands and face, but fell silent the moment his eyes feel on his brother's naked chest.

“In this heat?” Curufin looked at him as if he had lost his mind. He took off his jeans and hurled them with his underwear towards the only armchair in the corner next to the window, then pulled the duvet off his bed. “We've been there countless times already,” he added stretching on the bed.

“Yeah, I don't want to see the place for the next fifty years at least,” Caranthir concurred, appreciating his brother's nakedness, “too grey, and far too crowded.”

Maedhros sighed and plopped down on the horribly soft mattress, the springs creaking loudly under his weight – it would be an uncomfortable night for him, especially length-wise – and reached over to caress his brother's smooth thigh.

Caranthir dumped one more stub into the ashtray. “Besides, I'm not going to run around and stink all through tomorrow.”

“Yeah, this heat is terrible,” Maedhros absentmindedly said. “Well, there's very little to do while we're crammed in this room.”

He stood up again and lowered the blinds, but opened the window fully, even though the air outside was still and heavy, and the summer sun shone right above the dismal courtyard. The a/c was either broken or so weak it might as well not have existed at all. Soon after, his clothing joined Curufin's on the armchair and he quickly took the three steps it took him to throw himself on his brother's bed and on his brother's body.

Caranthir reached for the remote instead and turned the TV on. After two more cigarettes and some fitful zapping through a variety of channels in a variety of languages, all broadcasting trite programs which couldn't even remotely compare to the sight of his brothers making out on the bed right next to his, he gave up. He glanced at his watch. It was still only 3pm. He grunted, thinking of how at that time they should have been on their way to some secluded spot in a forest or valley, free of human pests and unspoilt by their invasive lifestyles, and in a much much cooler climate to boot. Shaking his head, he undressed and pushed his bed next to Curufin's.

“Are these sheets clean at least?” 

Maedhros rolled his eyes. “Moryo, please, we've lived through the plague.”

“Well, they won't stay clean for long, I hope,” Curufin said and nipped at Maedhros's right nipple, already drenched in his drool.

“Right, I guess I'll have fun making this room as dirty as possible.”

“That will fulfil your revenge against humankind? It'll just make life harder for the cleaners.”

“Harder? They're born to work reproduce work some more and die, and it wasn't I who made it that way.”

“...Moryo, I'm sure even Father has stopped bitching by now.” 

“Go check for me, will you? I'll take care of Curvo.” Caranthir wrapped his arms around Curufin's waist and lifted him off of Maedhros. He lay back, pulling Curufin atop of himself.

Maedhros knelt behind Curufin and raised his little brother's ass.

“Do we even have lube?” Caranthir asked, pulling Curufin's buttocks open.

“Nelyo always has lube,” Curufin purred.

“Or you two can slick me up with your mouths if you can't do anything better with them.”

In the event, Caranthir and Curufin kept each other's mouths duly occupied while Caranthir tugged and grazed Curufin's nipples with his fingers and Maedhros got Curufin ready for his cock, and after Maedhros sheathed himself inside his little brother, Caranthir drew back and found a different occupation for Curufin and his mouth and throat. They hardly minded about the sweat and swelter while they fucked, exchanging positions several times, and stopped only when exhaustion fixed them in a sticky tangle on the joined beds.

Much later, when the sun had finally disappeared behind a stack of look-alike buildings and the heat let up somewhat, Maedhros was roused by a gentle rap on the door. When the rap came a second time, he disentangled himself from his brothers, and answered it wearing nothing but dried semen and love-bites.

The door let in Fëanor and Maglor, both primly dressed and smelling of lavender.

“I brought you your meals,” Fëanor said, standing on tip-toes to kiss Maedhros. “And a change of T-shirts and underwear, too.”

“The latest fashion, all bought in some of the best boutiques in the airport,” Maglor chimed in, archly, looking his oldest brother up and down in the quasi-darkness of the room, “...though it doesn't look like you'll need them.”

“Maybe you will,” Maedhros said, hugging him from behind.

Fëanor laughed, already trapped between Caranthir and Curufin where he had sat on Maedhros's bed. He put the plastic bag with the food on the floor while his sons vied for his lips, letting them have their fill.

Maedhros sat down opposite him, settling Maglor on his lap and nuzzling his head against his brother's chest. 

“How are you so...fresh?”

Maglor laughed. “Well, unlike the three of you Dad and I spent the afternoon sleeping and only headed out at sundown.”

“It's Moryo's fault if we ended up like this.”

Caranthir protested with a mere mutter, far busier turning on the lights and then turning to the invitingly cold food-boxes Fëanor was unpacking from the bag, a seemingly endless pile of them. 'None of that insipid hotel stuff,' Fëanor was saying, earning a heartfelt nod from Curufin. Maedhros caught his father's gaze, held it for a kiss, then swept his gaze over his brothers, still feeling the treasured taste and texture of their bodies on himself. 

“Come on, eat your fill,” Maglor said, “then _maybe_ I'll give you dessert.”


End file.
